


Vom Regen in die Traufe

by lindsaylaurie



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AU, F/M, Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-15 17:05:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1312579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindsaylaurie/pseuds/lindsaylaurie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Gilbert is kicked out of his brother's basement he winds up staying with his estranged friend Elizabeta. Tensions are high until the two realize they might not be so incompatible after all. (AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Non-country AU. Title translates to "Out of the frying pan and into the fire" in German. I wrote this for a friend like... two years ago.

There were few people Elizabeta dreaded hearing from more than a certain Gilbert Beilschmidt. Though she had known the man since they were children, he was quite possibly the most annoying person to talk to on the phone. He prattled on and on about this and that and never hung up first. He had mostly grown out of that phase (and they were no longer on speaking terms anyway), but she still cringed every time a phone rang.

Unfortunately, the phone happened to ring, on her day off, while she was lying on the couch, book in hand.

Her lips pursed as she sat up and brushed the long brown hair from her eyes. The phone sat on the glass coffee table, ringing away, mocking her. With a sigh, Elizabeta dog-eared the novel and leaned over to grab the phone. "Hello?" She crossed her fingers and closed her eyes, praying for the voice on the other end to be a telemarketer.

"Ah, Elizabeta, hello." The stiff, formal voice that emanated from the phone sounded faintly uncomfortable and she knew at once who it was. Ludwig, who happened to be the brother of the last person on earth she wanted to have a phone conversation with. "I'm sorry for bothering you, but I'm afraid I have a bit of a… problem."

"Oh, hello, Ludwig." She shifted the phone from one ear to the other and pressed it against her shoulder. "It's no bother, really, but I hope this doesn't involve your brother." The silence on the other line didn't do much to alleviate her fears.

Once upon a time she had considered Gilbert a friend.

When they were young, they had competed in anything and everything. Who could run fastest(Elizabeta), hold their breath longer(Gilbert, before he passed out), jump highest(they could never actually calculate that one), and a number of other inane things.

"Well, you see…," Ludwig paused and she could just picture him frowning, "it does involve my brother, but…"

Elizabeta huffed, rolling her eyes. "You know I can't help you with that. No one in the world can help that guy."

If there was anyone to blame the deterioration of their friendship on, it was Gilbert. Shortly after she'd gotten engaged to Roderich, someone Gilbert could not stand, Gilbert became increasingly hostile until he stopped talking to Elizabeta entirely. Though the engagement had broken off, they had never really made up.

"Ah, it's just that I'm going to be doing some renovations on my house and I need somewhere for him to stay… just for a… well a month."

She could have dropped the phone. "A MONTH? Really, are you serious? Can't he stay in a hotel, or with… I don't know, whatever friends he has?"

"Well… that's actually the problem. I told him to leave and he didn't take it very well." Ludwig cleared his throat. "Currently he is drunk and very upset and I can't bring myself to call Francis and Antonio over."

At least Elizabeta could understand that. She certainly wouldn't want to call those two to fix any problems she had. Gilbert's friends had destroyed Ludwig's house on more than one occasion.

"And he keeps asking for you."

The phone nearly slipped out of her grasp again. Though she would never admit it to Gilbert, she did miss him. Evidently, he missed her too.

With a defeated sigh, she said, "You owe me. I'll be over there in an hour," and hung up. It was going to be a very long day.

An hour and a half later, Elizabeta found herself standing on the top step of Ludwig's basement. The imposing blonde stood behind her, looking somewhat apprehensive. "I can't thank you enough. I promise I will make it up to you somehow."

Elizabeta just waved him off. Out of everyone, she probably knew Gilbert best, no matter how much she didn't want to admit it. They had known each other since they were kids, before Elizabeta had even established her own gender. In those awkward early years she had been convinced she was a boy and so had Gilbert. "I probably won't keep him the whole time. I'll just sober him up and get him to a hotel."

"That would be fine," Ludwig said, taking a step back. "I'll just wait in the kitchen. I believe I would just make things worse."

With a nod, Elizabeta took a step into the abyss. She clutched the handrail and made her way carefully down the stairs, nearly stumbling when she reached the bottom. "Hello? Gilbert, are you down here?" Squinting into the black room, she pressed herself against the wall, feeling for a light switch.

"West sent YOU!" The voice echoed from the far end of the room.

"Yes, he sent me," Elizabeta replied, sounding rather irritated. "Why is it so dark in here and where's the light switch?"

"Wait d—!"

Her fingers found the switch, flicking it before the sentence had finished. A shower of sparks erupted from the ceiling, illuminating the room for a moment before settling on a rather tattered old sofa. Flames sprouted from the top, eliciting a scream from Elizabeta.

In the flickering light from the burning couch, she could make out the form of Gilbert scrambling towards her. "I tol' you not ta do that!"

She jumped back onto the stairs. "It's not my fault your lights are defective!" Wide eyes darted wildly back to the blaze. "Put it out, put it out!"

The heat in the little room grew stifling as the fire raged on, threatening to spill onto the carpet. "Do I loo' like a fireman?" Gilbert retorted, tottering away to face the fire. In his hand he held a bottle of what Elizabeta could only assume to be beer. As if in slow motion, he lifted it and  _poured_  the contents onto the flames.

Her screams were drowned out by the piercing fire alarm.

Thirty minutes later, Gilbert and Elizabeta sat in Elizabeta's car, looking sullen. Ludwig had burst into the basement and put out the fire before shooing them away. Unfortunately, that left Elizabeta smelling like smoke and in possession of a very drunk Gilbert.

Neither said anything as the little car pulled out of Ludwig's driveway and onto the road. Elizabeta had already shouted at Gilbert enough when Ludwig dragged them out onto the lawn. She doubted he would remember any of it later, but it made her feel better at least.

Of course, Gilbert had to be the one to break the silence. "So di' West tell you bout wha' he did?"

Though hard to understand, Elizabeta had heard his drunken slur often enough to be fluent in it. "Well he told me you needed a place to stay while he was renovating his house. Don't know why it has to be me who babysits you though." She kept her eyes on the road, not bothering to look at Gilbert even once.

Surprisingly, Gilbert had nothing to say in reply. The silence stretched on for so long that Elizabeta had to look over just to make sure he hadn't died or something. Instead, she was shocked to find Gilbert looking very melancholy as he stared at the glove compartment.

"Because I'm soooo freakin' pathetic and don't have a place t' go home to."

Her grip on the wheel tightened. It was true, of course; Gilbert had lost his job a few years back and never quite recovered. Though he tried to pretend he would be alright, Elizabeta knew how much it hurt his pride to move in with his little brother.

"What kind of attitude is that?" Elizabeta turned to look at him once more. "You never used to be like this, you know. I think your penis must have fallen off."

Gilbert sputtered, pitching forward against his seatbelt as he scrambled to sit up straighter. "What? I've still got it! I'll show you right here and now!"

"Oh stop, you'd just embarrass yourself. Everyone knows mine is bigger anyway." Usually when people came to Elizabeta with their problems, she listened and tried her best to help them out. Not Gilbert. Around him, she seemed to revert back to her previous self, some kind of masculine version that just didn't sit well with her. She had stopped being that person long ago… right?

He just stared at her, openmouthed, before crossing his arms and sinking back into the seat. Neither said a word until they reached Elizabeta's house.

Elizabeta found it very hard to bite back the laughter that bubbled up as Gilbert stumbled out of the car. "Honestly, you are pathetic. Getting all worked out because you had to move out of the basement? Wow."

"Shut up." Gilbert glared at her as he swayed on the spot, holding the door so as not to fall over. "You don't even know what it's like being me."

Unfortunately, that just made everything funnier to Elizabeta. She supposed she should have felt bad, but everything just seemed hilarious because it was Gilbert. Gilbert, the man she used to consider her greatest rival, reduced to living in a basement and getting drunk over trivial matters.

She felt a stab of guilt as Gilbert nearly fell flat on his face and any retorts died in her throat. Instead she grabbed Gilbert's bag out of the car and hauled it to the front door, striding right past the inebriated man hanging all over her car door. Without looking back, she unlocked the door to her house and stepped inside.

The luggage dragged across the floor before Elizabeta dumped it unceremoniously by the couch. For a moment, she nearly forgot all about Gilbert and just about closed the door on his face.

"Hey, watch it!" he hissed, pushing past her and falling onto the sofa heavily.

"Oh good, you found your bed."

He made no attempt to respond, apparently already asleep. Or passed out. Or dead.


	2. Chapter 2

The next morning Elizabeta woke to find Gilbert not on the couch, but sprawled out on the floor, completely covered by a sheet. She paused on her way to the kitchen, folded her arms over her chest and grinned. Knowing he must have had a massive hangover, she crept over on bare feet and ripped the blanket off in one fluid motion.

But instead of seeing a very hung over Gilbert passed out cold, she found him writing in something…

A diary.

Vaguely, she could remember Gilbert doing something like that as a child, but she would have never imagined him to continue on with the habit. It was just so… feminine.

Apparently Gilbert thought so too, for the moment he realized what had happened, he yelped and threw himself down onto the book. "Geeze! Don't scare me like that!"

"You still…. You still keep a  _diary_?" She raised her eyebrows so far they nearly disappeared into her hairline.

"Of course not!" Gilbert insisted, pressing down harder on the offending book. Looking rather mortified, he sat up and snatched the blanket out of Elizabeta's grasp, pulling it back over himself. It seemed he had woken up at some point during the night, as he had changed into a baggy t-shirt and flannel pants with chicks all over them. If the diary had not been the focus of the conversation, Elizabeta would have teased him for the pants too. "I was doing… crossword puzzles!"

Somehow, crossword puzzles didn't suit Gilbert at all. "Really then? Let me see them." Elizabeta held out a hand, a little smile forming on her lips.

Gilbert turned a very odd color. "Hey, I don't go around asking to see  _your_  crossword puzzles. Why are you being so un-awesome? I thought we were cool!"

In return, Elizabeta frowned, planting her hands on her hips. "What gave you that idea? Have I not hit you with my frying pan enough times?"

The silver haired man fidgeted, presumably further trying to hide his diary. "Come on, are you still mad at me for picking on you as a kid? That was like, a million years ago!"

As he spoke, Elizabeta inched closer and closer, waiting for the opportune moment to grab that book. What deep thoughts could Gilbert possibly have? She could just imagine every page saying something like "I'm such a loser, I live in my brother's basement and think about the past too much." Yep, that was Gilbert alright. "Oh shut up, Gilbert, you know what you did."

As Gilbert opened his mouth to reply, Elizabeta made her move. She dove forward, pushing him aside and clamping on firmly to the little brown book. He made an odd, strangled sort of noise and wind milled wildly in her direction, but it was too late. Elizabeta bolted to her feet and ran off towards the bedroom.

Unfortunately, Gilbert was just as fast.

He thundered behind her, shouting something or other in German at the top of his voice. Though Elizabeta had planned on slamming the door in his face, he was too close to her to turn around without capture. Instead, she leapt onto the bed and vaulted off the other side, making for the door once more.

A pair of arms closed around her waist before she could make it.

"Give it back! I'm not joking around here!" She could feel his breath against the back of her neck.

Elizabeta fought against him, struggling in his grip. "Hey, let go, let go! Why are you getting so worked up over puzzles?" She held the book just out of his reach and opened it as he desperately swiped for it. "Today I went to the store because West was out of milk but I think he just wanted to get rid of me."

"Stop, stop! I swear I'm gonna—"

"AND," she continued loudly over his protests, "I saw some hot chick at the register. She kind of reminded me of—"

Her words turned into a scream as they tumbled to the ground. Gilbert had, evidently, lunged at the book and sent them both crashing to the floor in a tangle of bodies. They both scrambled to disentangle themselves, but it seemed Gilbert was more concerned with the book, for he moved snatched it back before Elizabeta could even blink.

Unfortunately, in that moment their lips crashed together very awkwardly.

The contact lasted for a fraction of a second before they sprang apart and fell back, just staring at each other. Though her cheeks felt uncomfortably warm, Elizabeta was first to recover. She dragged a sleeve across her mouth before shouting, "What the hell is your problem?"

"My problem? You're the one stealing my private stuff!" He held the diary firmly against his chest, glaring daggers at Elizabeta. "Seriously, I think you're the one with real issues, not me."

Elizabeta took a moment to consider that option. Maybe she might have admitted her faults to someone else, but never to Gilbert. Though he had messed up before, she hadn't given him a chance to redeem himself at all. Instead, she just harassed him and made everything worse.

"Just leave me alone, alright? I don't need your pity or Ludwig's pity, or anyone else's okay? I'm going to a hotel." And with that, he got to his feet and stormed back into the living room.

After just staring after him, Elizabeta got up and followed, feeling a bit bad for being so… she had no idea how she acted around Gilbert. "Hey, Gilbert?"

He hardly looked up from stuffing his discarded clothes back into his bag.  _"What?"_

She shifted on the spot, staring down at the floor. Somehow, she was going to try to be nice to Gilbert. "Look… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. You can stay here, alright?"

He stiffened, hand paused half-way in his bag. "I told you, I don't want your charity. I'll be fine in a hotel."

The next words were almost physically painful to say and Elizabeta knew she would regret saying them. "It's not charity, you're my guest."

And finally he turned around, eyebrows raised. "You  _do_ have issues, you know that? One minute you're stealing my stuff and the next minute you're being nice to me?"

"Oh shut up."


	3. Chapter 3

The next few days went abnormally smoothly.

Elizabeta wound up letting Gilbert stay in the spare room rather than on the couch and promised not to steal his diary again. In return, he acted… normal.

Well, as normal as Gilbert could act.

It was if nothing had ever happened between them. They slid easily into being friends again, totally ignoring the impromptu kiss and the awkwardness that came with it.

Too bad Elizabeta couldn't ignore it.

Whenever they were together, it always floated around in the back of her mind, just out reach but there all the same. That, coupled with Gilbert's return to normalcy, gave her very strange ideas indeed. But if there was one thing Elizabeta never thought she would do, it was admitting she had a sort of… thing for Gilbert.

When they had been younger, she could remember admiring him, just a little. They had been adversaries long ago and it was only natural and sportsmanlike to admire your rival. But lately she found herself… admiring him once more.

But she could never voice any of those feelings to Gilbert. Though they were tentatively friends again, she could never discuss matters like that with him. That left only one person who she knew would understand.

Alone in her bedroom, Elizabeta picked up the phone. Although she knew she would regret it later, Elizabeta hit the first speed dial with one last look at the locked door of her room. Gilbert had probably already gone to sleep, and never entered her room anyway, but she had locked it all the same. Sitting cross legged in the middle of the bed, hair up, in her pajamas, Elizabeta pressed the call button.

"Hello? Lizzy? This like, better be important, I was totally sleeping."

Her eyes darted to the digital clock on her nightstand. Right, it was nearly midnight.

"Ah, sorry Feliks. I just have… a problem." She shifted uncomfortably, having second thoughts already. Feliks wasn't very fond of Gilbert, so his advice would probably be very biased…

"Yeah? I'm listening." The sleepy voice did not sound very attentive.

Taking a deep breath, she cupped the receiver with both hands and said, "Well I might have feelings for Gilbert."

The silence on the other end of the line was rather disheartening.

For a moment, she wondered if Feliks had fallen asleep or died of shock. Neither of those turned out to be correct, for in the next instant an odd sort of squeal caused her to pull the phone away from her ear.

"Sorry. Did I hear you right? Gilbert as in, that loser who lives in a basement?"

Elizabeta exhaled, flopping onto her back. "Yeah that one. He's staying in my house while Ludwig's house is being remodeled and… I don't know… he's kind of better now?"

Feliks scoffed. "Lizzy, you can totally do better than him. Listen, I know this dude Eduard and I can set you up with him for sure. Liet's like, totally bffs with him and he's a pretty smart guy!"

The long, curly cord of the phone twisted in her hands. "Thanks, but I'm fine, really," she mumbled into the phone. "I don't know what I was thinking anyway, of course I don't like Gilbert!"

"Yeah, that's right, girl. Let me know if you want to go out with Eduard, okay?"

"Sure. I'll let you get back to bed then. Goodnight, Feliks."

"Uh-huh. Night Lizzy."

Elizabeta hung up the phone, finding herself even more confused than before. Maybe it would be a good idea for her to go out with whoever Feliks wanted to set her up with. She had to be really desperate for companionship if she thought she had feelings for  _Gilbert._

 

 

"Francis… you're good at relationships right?"

Gilbert hung off the side of the bed in the guest room, upside down as he held his cell phone to his ear. Anyone else might have found this position uncomfortable, but it didn't bother him.

Under normal circumstances he would have never called Francis to talk about such matters, but he was desperate. For years he had harbored feelings for Elizabeta, but knew they would never be reciprocated. Now that he had a slight glimmer of hope, he had no idea what to do about it.

"Well hello to you too, Gilbert." Gilbert could just tell from the tone of his voice that the conversation would not be pleasant. It had that smug edge to it that drove everyone crazy.

Gilbert bit his lip, scowling up at the ceiling. "So are you or not? I don't have all night."

"I suppose. Would you like me to come over and show you?" he breathed into the phone in a tone that was no doubt meant to send chills down someone's spine. Not Gilbert.

"No, definitely not." He sat up, hauling himself fully onto the bed. "Listen, you know how I kind of have a thing for Elizabeta? Well how do I tell if she feels the same?"

A new voice, sounding distant, voice floated over the line. "Who are you talking to Francis? Is that Gilbert?"

The sound of shifting filled Gilbert's ear, as if Francis had moved to cover the receiver. His suspicions were confirmed when the next words sounded muffled. "He thinks Elizabeta has feelings for him too. Isn't that cute?"

"Hey, shut up! So un-awesome!" Gilbert's fingers tightened around the phone, ready to just hang it up and forget it. "Hey wait is that Tony? What is he doing over there?"

"We're having a sleep over," Francis purred into the phone. "Care to join us, mon cher?"

"No, no, no! Come on, help me or I'm hanging up."

The sound of the phone being jostled assaulted his ear once more. This time Tony's voice issued from the receiver. "What's wrong, hermano? Tell me all about it."

Gilbert let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his silver hair. "I want to know if Lizzy likes me! Is that so hard?"

"Hmmm. I got it! Francis, how does this sound?" There was a great deal of exaggerated whispering on the other line, followed by statements such as "No that would never..." and "Well now that you mention it…"

Unfortunately, Gilbert was not in the mood for anything like that. "What are you two talking about?"

The whispering stopped at once and Francis returned to the line. "Double date!"

The silence in the room was palpable. Gilbert stared at the wall blankly before frowning. "…Are you guys suggesting I take Lizzy on a date with the two of you tagging along?" It sounded like the worst idea in the history of the universe. Not only were his friends a little… weird, they would no doubt find a way to drag Gilbert into their hijinks against his will.

More laughter grated against his eardrums. "No, silly! We're going to set you up with a beautiful woman and  _I'll_  take Elizabeta. While it will be nearly impossible to resist my charm, she will become so jealous of your date that she'll be begging you to date her."

The idea of Francis being Elizabeta's date did not sit well with him in the slightest. "Hell no! Can't Tony…," he trailed off. Nope, Antonio would not be any better. "Look, can't we just think of a different plan?"

Francis clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "I thought it was genius. Didn't you Tony? Well, it's late, I'll call you later if I think of anything."

Gilbert sighed. He had no idea why he thought calling Francis was a good idea. "Fine. Goodnight then."

A chorus of "goodbyes" floated over the line, both sounding too disturbingly sultry for his tastes.

 

 

Breakfast the next morning was inexplicably awkward.

Both Elizabeta and Gilbert were uncharacteristically quiet as they ate in silence. Every once and awhile, Gilbert would sneak a glance across the table and find Elizabeta watching him. They would both turn away pointedly in the other direction without so much as a word.

Finally, just when Gilbert swore he could bear the tension no longer, Elizabeta blurted out. "I'm going on a date tonight."

Gilbert could feel the bottom of his stomach drop out. "You know what? I was thinking about going on a date too!" he spat, nearly jumping out of his chair. He had no idea what made him say it, it was just a knee-jerk reaction. But maybe it wasn't such a bad thing, it could set that whole stupid plan into motion. Gilbert just needed a really hot chick that Francis and Tony supposedly could get him. Yeah, he just had to tell himself that it would all work out…

The corners of Elizabeta's mouth twitched downward as she raised her eyebrows. "Really? Who?"

His mind went blank. They hadn't told him any names, or even if they would find a girl available on such short notice. If he said he didn't know, then he would have to admit it was a blind date and make himself look lame. Rather than just sit there panicking, he threw out the first name that came to mind. "Franc—ince! Francine. Yep. She's totally hot and she's visiting from France!"

"I see…"

Though Gilbert could tell she didn't believe him in the slightest, he pressed on. "Hey why don't we go together? It'll be like, a double date." The only problem was he lacked a date. Technicalities.

Across the table, Elizabeta rested her elbows on the checkered cloth and tilted her head to the side. "I suppose we could… Where did you meet this Francine anyway?"

Gilbert stiffened. "Um, you know, she's Francis' cousin," he said, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. "Where did you meet this guy and why do you suddenly want to go to dinner with him?" There was a bit of an accusatory note in his words. It did hurt a little for Elizabeta to suddenly get a date with a random guy when he'd been trying for years. Well, obviously he hadn't been trying hard enough.

"Oh, well he's Feliks' friend." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "He's very… smart." Small fingers toyed with the fraying ends of the tablecloth. "So, tell Francine to meet us at seven?"

For a moment, Gilbert nearly forgot who Francine was. "Oh! Yeah, I'll just go call her now." He eased the chair back and got to his feet. "Um, thanks for breakfast."

"Sure."

With one last look at Elizabeta, he turned to the door and casually made his way to the spare room.

Where he promptly locked the door and whipped out his phone. His fingers could barely function correctly as he flicked through his contacts for Francis. He hopped around the room, cursing silently to himself as he waited for that French bastard to pick up.

"Allo? Gilbert? Did you change your mind?" His smooth voice sounded very cocky, and any other time Gilbert might have been bothered by that.

"No! Well, sort of! Listen, Lizzy's got a date with some dude named Eduard and I kind of told her I had a date too so now we're double dating." The words tumbled from his mouth in a rush, nearly incomprehensible. "So hook me up with a chick! Preferably one named Francine!"

An uneasy silence followed. "Francine?"

Gilbert let out an exasperated sigh, turning on his heel to pace in that tiny room. "I told Lizzy her name was Francine! She asked me for a name, I panicked!"

"Hmm… while I know several Francines, none of them would be interested in you. Hold on a moment." The line went silent before Gilbert could hear Francis call out in the distance. "Tony! Do you know any Francines?"

"Um, no. Is that Gilbert on the phone again?"

Gilbert growled, falling back hard onto the bed. "Oh just forget it! This is not going to work out." He let the phone fall next to his ear. His friends seemed to be speaking rapidly on the other end, but he didn't really care at that moment. Really, he should have never listened to them in the first place.

"Do not worry, Gilbert, Tony and I will get you a girl!"

Oh how he wished he could believe them.


	4. Chapter 4

Seven in the evening found Gilbert and Elizabeta standing outside a fancy restaurant in the middle of town. Though neither had been there before, Elizabeta's date had assured her that it was a fine establishment. Really, it was not the type of place either would have visited of their own accord.

"So…," Gilbert said, pulling his coat tighter against himself. Though it was not cold, the brown garment served as sort of a barrier between himself and the oppressive awkwardness.

Elizabeta's eyes darted to her watch and Gilbert did the same, just to have something to do. "They should be here soon."

"Uh, huh." Gilbert's eyes never left the watch. He bored into it, watching the seconds tick by and praying their dates would magically appear. He had not been so awkward around Elizabeta in ages.

"Oh, well there's Eduard."

Gilbert snapped to attention at once, eyes darting about for the man he would automatically despise. A blonde man with glasses melted out of the busy street, arm raised in greeting. He didn't look any better than Gilbert, nor was he any taller.  _He had better be a damn genius._

Before he knew it, Elizabeta had wandered away from his side to greet the new arrival. "Eduard, hi! So nice to finally meet you in person!"

So she had not known her date beforehand either. Well, it would have saved Gilbert a lot of worrying if he would have admitted that earlier about his own date. Nonetheless, Francis and Antonio had assured him that they would be sending over a ravishing young French woman who would answer to the name Francine.

He only half paid attention as Eduard introduced himself and launched into a rather longwinded discussion about computers. Gilbert kept his gaze to the floor, looking up only when Elizabeta said, "Hey, is that your date, Gilbert?"

He looked up so fast it nearly gave him whiplash and found himself face to face with a tall blonde with soft curls and a low cut red dress. Anyone off the street would have identified the person as a beautiful woman.

Too bad he knew straight off the bat that the "beautiful woman" happened to be his best friend in drag.

"What. Are. You. Doing?" Gilbert hissed through clenched teeth, turning all sorts of red. He could feel the stares of Elizabeta and her date, but did his best to ignore them.

Francis flipped back his hair and grinned. "Oh Gilbert, always a charmer," he tittered, his voice sounding unnaturally high. "Introduce me to your friends here." His hands found their way to Gilbert's arm.

"Well…  _Francine_  this is Elizabeta and this is… uh," Gilbert found he couldn't remember the other man's name.

The bespectacled man's eyes rested just a little too long on Francis' "chest" before he said, "Eduard," with a stupid little grin on his face.

"Right, Eduard. And um, this is Francine." Before anyone could say anything else, he added, "Okay now that we all know each other, let's go in."

Every moment Elizabeta and her date looked away, Gilbert attempted to crush Francis' arm against his body. He kept this up until they reached the booth and Francis pulled away to slide in first. Gilbert took a seat next to him, bristling when wandering fingers grazed his thigh. That bastard was pushing it.

Elizabeta, Francis, and Eduard engaged in conversation easily enough, but Gilbert remained silent, burying his face behind the menu. Any moment, someone would see through Francis' disguise and his entire life would be ruined.

Plus, why the hell would he want to know about Eduard's stupid computers?

Another casual brush at his thigh caused him to slam down the menu. Elizabeta raised her eyebrows at his seemingly random outburst, but Eduard and Francis paid him no mind. Francis took this moment of distraction to lean over the table, batting his long eyelashes and giving Eduard the smarmiest smile Gilbert had ever seen.

Well if Francis' plan was to seduce Eduard, he was being far too obvious about it. Gilbert cleared his throat and kicked his friend under the table, which didn't seem to faze him, to Gilbert's disappointment. Fortunately, they were saved from further embarrassment when the waiter sauntered up to their table at that moment.

On a normal day, Gilbert would have just given his order and promptly forgot the waiter's face. Unfortunately it was not a normal day and his waiter happened to have the extremely prominent eyebrows of someone he sort of knew.

Francis' fake nails dug into his arm.

"My name is Arthur and I'll be serving you today," he said mechanically, eyes dully sweeping over the table before stopping on Gilbert.

They had never really been formal acquaintances, Gilbert just knew him as the man Francis had an extremely long running love/hate relationship with. From the way Francis was acting, Gilbert could chance a guess that they were in the hate portion at the moment.

"Can I get you anything to drink?"

"Water, tell him I'll have water," Francis hissed in Gilbert's ear, acrylic claws still buried in his arm.

Though vaguely surprised Francis did not ask for wine, Gilbert complied. "We'll take water."

"Water over here as well," Eduard said.

Arthur tapped his pen against the little notebook in his hand. "Mmn, I'll be right back with that." The iron grip on Gilbert's arm released as Arthur turned to leave.

"Gilbert, I have to leave, I can't let him see me like!" The false highness of his voice faded away as he whispered.

"Something wrong?" Elizabeta asked from across the table.

Yes, something was wrong. Gilbert had possibly the worst luck in the history of the world. "No, no everything is fine!" He kicked Francis hard under the table. It would just be weird for him to leave, and it would leave Gilbert as the third wheel on Elizabeta's date. Totally lame.

Elizabeta just shrugged and turned to Francis. "So I hear you're visiting from France. How do you like it here so far?"

"Oh, um it's very… interesting." The girlish voice returned at once, though now sounding fairly distracted. "Excuse me for a moment, will you?" He turned to slide out of the booth, but Gilbert didn't move. " _Excuse meGilbert."_

With a long, hard look that clearly stated come-back-or-I-will-kill-you, Gilbert got to his feet and allowed Francis to pass. He settled back into the booth, looking surlier than ever.

After an awkward silence passed over the table, Eduard shifted and said, "Excuse me as well."

Gilbert watched him leave, secretly glad to be rid of him. Unfortunately that left him alone, with Elizabeta, in a fancy restaurant.

But did he not live with her now? Well, temporarily, but he still saw her daily and, might he add, without any make-up on. Seeing her all dressed up should not have had any effect on him. Too bad it rendered him speechless.

"So… nice place." Elizabeta was the first to break the silence. She folded her hands over the table and looked in the direction their dates had gone.

"Yep… fancy." Gilbert found himself looking for their dates as well.

"So Francine seems… nice."

"Yeah so does Eduard. I mean if you're into super nerds married to their computers." Though the statement would no doubt get him in trouble, he at least prided himself for keeping the bitterness out of his voice.

To his surprise, Elizabeta laughed, covering her mouth with her hands in an attempt to hold it in. She leaned forward across the table conspiratorially, beckoning Gilbert to do the same. "Oh gosh did you see his face when he talked about his laptop? It was almost indecent!"

Though Gilbert had probably been hiding behind the menu at the time, he laughed all the same. "Well I think Francine kind of likes him, maybe we should just let them get married and have computer babies."

A laugh far too loud for such a fancy restaurant erupted from Elizabeta's throat. She leaned further across the table, trying to compose herself. "Hey, want to just ditch them?" A little smirk played on her lips and all at once Gilbert was reminded of the days they used to play in the sandbox. Elizabeta had been different then: aggressive, overbearing, and, not to mention, convinced she was a boy.

If Elizabeta had proposed they ditched any other dates, Gilbert would have jumped at the chance. Well, he almost did just then. But the moment he opened his mouth, he remembered just who his date was. Francis would have been happy to let Gilbert ditch him… if he had not run into Arthur.

As he sat there, staring across the table at Elizabeta, he wondered if he could, in good conscious, leave one of his best friends alone, in drag, in a restaurant his ex-whatever happened to work at.

"Yeah let's get out of here."

The devilish grin on her lips grew wider. "You up for drinks?"

Gilbert nodded, feeling his mouth go dry. "Yeah… Uh, go get the car, I'll just be a moment…"

Though Elizabeta raised her eyebrows, she nodded and stood up. "Alright then, don't take too long or I'll leave without you."

After she had walked away, Gilbert sprang to his feet and scrambled towards the restrooms. In the little hallway between the two lavatories, he found Eduard looking sheepish.

"Sorry… I don't know what came over me," he muttered, toying with his glasses.

Gilbert glanced desperately back towards the door where Elizabeta had disappeared through just moments earlier. "What are you talking about? Where's Francine?"

A long, drawn out sigh, escaped Eduard's lips. "Elizabeta is a beautiful girl… but that Francine…" Gilbert found himself moderately creeped out by the faraway look on the other man's face. "Anyway, I thought Francine was flirting with me and you kind of seemed like you preferred Elizabeta… so I followed Francine over here." He gestured listlessly to the door to the woman's restroom. "But I must have scared her, because she hasn't come out."

Though the thought of someone falling for Francis in drag struck Gilbert as hilarious, he didn't have the time to laugh. "Its fine, she's just playing hard to get. Let me go get her, alright? You just wait here."

A horrified expression stole over Eduard's face. "You're going into the  _women's restroom_?"

"Yeah.  _Wait here._ "

Without another word, Gilbert turned and pushed open the door. There stood Francis, adjusting himself nervously in the mirror. He turned to Gilbert with wide eyes and clasped a hand over his heart. "What are you doing in the  _women's restroom_?"

Gilbert could have screamed. "You're not a woman either! Now stop playing around and get the hell out of here! Lizzy asked me for drinks and she's going to get suspicious if I take too long."

Nervous eyes looked to the door. "But Arthur's out there! I think I would die if he saw me like this." Francis crossed his arms over his chest and shifted nervously before perking up again. "Gilbert, give me your coat."

He balked. "What? Hell no! What is she gonna say when I go out there without my coat?"

But Francis snatched for it all the same. "She won't even notice!" he insisted, attempting to wrestle the garment away.

"No, dammit!"

Unfortunately, Francis was unrelenting. The two stumbled about the bathroom until Gilbert finally managed to pin Francis against the sink. As they stood there, red and panting, the bathroom door opened once more.

Of course it was Elizabeta. It was just Gilbert's luck that Elizabeta had come back to look for him and found him in a compromising position with what looked to be another woman.

"Wait! Lizzy! It's not what it looks like!"

The door closed as quickly as it had opened.


	5. Chapter 5

Swearing violently under his breath, Gilbert released Francis and shucked off his jacket. "Take it and get out," he snapped before turning to the door and taking off at full speed. The door nearly hit a very confused Eduard, but Gilbert pressed on, catching sight of Elizabeta in the distance.

"Lizzy! It's not like that! That was Francis back there, I made him dress in drag!"

All eyes in the crowded room turned to Gilbert, who stopped dead in his tracks. He stood between two tables, frozen as Elizabeta turned very slowly to look at him.

"So not only did you lie to me about your date, now you're gonna tell me you're gay?"

All the color drained from Gilbert's face. "No! No! Come on, let me explain!"

"Not here, Gilbert, not here." She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, leaving Gilbert to trail along behind her. Curious eyes turned away sharply, feigning disinterest.

Elizabeta got to the car first and managed lock the door before Gilbert could reach for the handle. He stood helplessly, hand outstretched, as the engine started. Just as the car began to pull out, he did something insanely stupid.

Gilbert jumped out in front of the car.

The horn blared as the vehicle jerked to a stop and Elizabeta rolled down her window, shouting obscenities that couldn't be heard over the noise. Finally, the horn died away, leaving Gilbert and Elizabeta in the ominous silence.

"Get in the damn car."

Without a word, Gilbert scrambled to the passenger's side and wrenched open the door. He barely had enough time to put his seatbelt on before the car screeched out of the parking lot.

Neither said a word, causing Gilbert much discomfort as he fidgeted in his seat. He stared at the dashboard, glove compartment, floor, anything to keep his eyes away from Elizabeta and her no doubt murderous expression.

Finally, Elizabeta cleared her throat, as if she were about to speak. Still, Gilbert didn't look up. "I don't even know what's wrong with you. Just when I started thinking 'gee maybe Gilbert isn't so bad after all. Maybe he's grown up since last year' you just go ahead and prove me wrong."

He chanced a glance at the steering wheel and noticed Elizabeta's knuckles white against it.

"But you've always been like this. Just when I start thinking that maybe…," she paused, her tone losing the irritated edge. "I don't know what I was thinking."

Gilbert swallowed. "If you'll just let me explain—"

The car swerved dangerously into another lane, narrowly avoiding clipping a passing truck. "Fine, Gilbert! Explain. Or just, I don't know, lie to me some more."

"I won't lie. I'll tell the truth." He chewed on his lip while staring hard at the radio. "All of it."

Neither spoke for the next few moments as Gilbert tried desperately to focus. He had no idea where to even start. All he could think of was one particular moment in the seventh grade when Elizabeta turned around in her seat and shot Gilbert the most beautiful smile he'd even seen. Though her hair had been done up in pig tails and her teeth nearly obscured by braces, he had never forgotten that one moment.

Of course he had always thought of that moment as when his attraction to Elizabeta had started. Before then she'd just been a friend, one of the boys. Something about her changed in that instant and he could never put his finger on it.

But he couldn't start there. Totally inappropriate. Instead he took a deep breath and plunged head first into what had to be the most awkward explanation of his life. "So Francis told me he could hook me up with some girl and that would make you jealous, only he couldn't and so he had to do the most un-awesome thing and dress up as a chick and I guess he kind of looked hot, but that's beside the point, but then his ex-gay lover or something was the waiter so he freaked out and hid in the bathroom and I couldn't just leave him there so I went back for him, except he tried to take my jacket and then we ended up fighting over it and that's when you walked in." He was fairly certain that he hadn't breathed once during that long run on sentence.

The silence that followed made his skin crawl.

An odd, choked off kind of laughter bubbled up from Elizabeta's throat. Gilbert watched out of the corner of his eye as her hands shook on the steering wheel and her shoulders shuddered. Her teeth ground against a trembling lower lip until she could contain it no longer.

Gilbert turned very red as the laughter rang out through the car. He nearly fell out of his seat as the car veered sideways suddenly to park on the side of the road. Horns blared at the maneuver, but they fell on deaf ears.

"You c-c-could have killed us right there!" Elizabeta stammered, unsuccessfully trying to control her violent laughter.

"Me? You're the one driving!"

Elizabeta snorted, taking several deep breaths. "You're the one who's totally ridiculous. That was the stupidest thing I have ever heard. Who does stuff like that?" She dabbed at her eyes, tearful from laughing so hard. "Right, you. If I hadn't known you for so long, I would not have believed a word of it."

Though it was probably a stupid thing to say, Gilbert went ahead and said, "So you're not mad at me?"  
"Don't push it." Though she smiled as she spoke, for the laughter had not yet died away. "You're such a dork, you know that, right?"

Gilbert pouted, staring out the windshield at the dark road ahead of them. "Shut up, Lizzy."

"No," she simply, raking a sleeve across her eyes one last time. "Now please stop being so silly and maybe we can make it back home intact." The engine roared to life one more as she pressed down on the gas.

Though he wanted to protest that he wasn't being silly at all, he decided to let the matter drop. "So you weren't jealous of Francis? Well, when he was a chick anyway."

She looked over at him with raised eyebrows before turning her attention back to the road. Now that he had seen Elizabeta nearly kill them by laughing, he wasn't sure if pushing the matter was such a good idea…

"Maybe a little," Elizabeta admitted, though she pressed on quickly before Gilbert could get too excited, "but only because 'she' was gorgeous, not because she was with you. I mean, did you see that rack?"

The corner of Gilbert's eyebrow twitched. "They were fake though. It's not that impressive when you know they're fake." He leaned forward, resting his face against the glove compartment rather awkwardly. It was not the safest position, as he would probably be killed by the airbag if they crashed, which could be a possibility.

"Still, they looked pretty real." She looked thoughtful for a moment before adding, "His ass was real though, right? Come on Gil, please don't ruin all of my fantasies."

A look of disgust stole over Gilbert's features, curling his lip and narrowing his eyes. "I don't know! I don't spend all day staring at Francis' ass!"

"Really? I wouldn't be surprised if you did."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Hell no, that's Tony's job. "

"I've found your problem, Gilbert," Elizabeta announced, as though she had just found the cure for cancer. "All of your friends are weird and you have no one normal to hang around. Well, except me I guess, but only because I  _let_  you hang around with me."

Though the comment was said in jest, Gilbert couldn't help but think all was forgiven. Everything, even that mortifying incident that had taken place the previous year. While their friendship had started going downhill after her engagement to Roderich, one event in particular was the final nail in the coffin.

"So… we are friends again, aren't we?"

Elizabeta seemed to consider the question, and took her time doing it. As Gilbert stared at her, she pulled a number of faces that were apparently meant to signify deep thinking, but he knew she was teasing him. "I guess we are. I just have one question."

And it came down to  _that._

There was no doubt in his mind that Elizabeta intended to ask him why he had been such a huge jerk about Roderich, which eventually lead to crashing her rehearsal dinner while extremely intoxicated. Though the answer should have been obvious by now, Gilbert intended to answer it fully. Because it wasn't totally about the raging crush on her he'd had since he was a kid. He genuinely did not think Roderich was right for her.

Too bad Gilbert was not the best with words. Any normal person would have said "I don't think this guy's right for you," or "maybe you should reconsider." Not Gilbert. Gilbert had to make an ass of himself in front of Elizabeta's entire family and punch out her second cousin.

But the question that sprang from Elizabeta's lips was not the one he was expecting.

"Do you still have that scar on your dick?"

The seatbelt constricted very painfully as Gilbert sat up way too fast. "What the hell? What does that have to do with anything?"

A few giggles fell from Elizabeta's lips, but she did not lose control of the car, thankfully. "Do you remember how you got that scar?"

"Yes, and I don't want to relive that moment." His eyes darted towards the window and he was relieved to find they were nearly to Elizabeta's house.

"Oh, but I do." Her eyes narrowed and lips quirked up into a grin. "Do remind me, Gilbert, and we'll call it even."

With a murderous glare, Gilbert crossed his arms tight over his chest. "You know what happened. We were drunk and you dared me to go streaking." He looked over to Elizabeta. "Satisfied?"

She turned onto her street, shaking her head. "There's more to it than that."

If Elizabeta was trying to humiliate him, it was working. "I tripped and fell on the asphalt, okay?"

The car pulled into the driveway and Elizabeta removed her seatbelt before turning to look at Gilbert. "So you don't remember the whole thing?" There was something weird about her expression that he couldn't quite identify.

But really, he had no idea what she was talking about. "Uh, no. I passed out and when I woke up I was all scraped up in the most unfortunate places."

Elizabeta shrugged, looking a bit… disappointed. "Alright then, if you really don't remember." The car door opened and she disappeared, leaving Gilbert utterly bewildered.


	6. Chapter 6

Elizabeta disappeared into her bedroom the moment they set foot in the house, eager to strip off her clothes. The heels had begun to cut into her feet and the dress was a little too short for comfort. As she pulled her bra over her head (she never had the patience to fiddle with the clasps in the back), her mind wandered to Gilbert and the whole streaking incident. He had not remembered most of it… and maybe it was better that way.

Pushing these thoughts of out her mind for the time being, she crossed the room to the adjoining bathroom to remove her make-up. Halfway through scrubbing at her face, she decided she really didn't feel like trying to get it all off and left dark smudges around her eyes.

As she stood there, leaning against the bathroom sink and staring at her reflection, she grinned. Not many people saw her clad in oversized t-shirt with a picture of a kitten on it and Batman boxers. Roderich never saw her dressed like that, that was for sure.

She left the bedroom to find Gilbert on the couch with a beer in hand and a few unopened on the table. Of course he'd taken them from her fridge, but she didn't mind. His bright eyes raked over her and a smile quirked at his lips. "Nice outfit."

Rolling her eyes, Elizabeta settled down onto the sofa next to him and took the drink from his hands. "I could say the same to you."

Unlike Elizabeta, Gilbert hadn't bothered to change. Instead he'd merely kicked off his shoes and discarded his tie. His shirt had come untucked and looked a bit rumpled, but it didn't seem to bother him.

The room fell into a comfortable silence as they both took a drink. Of course, Gilbert had to shatter it almost immediately. "So… what exactly am I supposed to remember about that streaking story?"

Elizabeta bristled, pausing mid-drink. The beer clinked down on the table as she turned to look at Gilbert very seriously. Though she seriously considered making something up or simply refusing to tell Gilbert, she said, "If I tell you, you have to swear you won't make a big deal out of it, okay?"

Before she'd even uttered the last syllable, Gilbert nodded. They took a simultaneous gulp of beer and Elizabeta dearly hoped it would make everything less awkward.

"Well, you remember what we did that day, right?"

"Yeah, you dragged me to your dress fitting," Gilbert muttered. "You kept telling me not to let you drink too much or your dress wouldn't fit anymore."

A little frown tugged at her lips at that last bit. "That's right, and you let me drink an unholy amount anyway. Jerk." Luckily for Gilbert, Elizabeta never got the chance to wear the dress again, so its fit didn't matter. "Anyway, we had been drinking and I told you to streak, just because we were both so drunk and I figured I needed a laugh."

And well… yeah you did run out into the street and get your junk all cut up," Elizabeta paused, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. "And I went over to see if you were alright, 'cause you looked all pathetic out there." She sighed, brushing a limp lock of hair of her eyes before looking straight up at Gilbert. "And you know what happened?"

Looking very much like a deer caught in the headlights, Gilbert shook his head. Elizabeta would have laughed if she did not feel so weird about the whole thing.

"You looked up at me with your stupid sappy eyes and said, 'Lizzy, don't marry him, please.'"

The look on Gilbert's face was priceless. He sputtered, mouth gaping like a fish out of water and eyes wide as saucers. "I did n—"

Elizabeta held up a hand to silence him. "You did. And I'm not done yet." She waggled a single index finger at him. "Well, obviously I already knew that you didn't want me to marry him because you'd been acting like such a bitch during the whole wedding planning, but hearing you say it…," her voice grew soft, "I don't know, it just sort of clicked."

"Wait, does that mean you were planning on cancelling from that moment on? I got worked up over nothing?" So intense was Gilbert's stare that he did not even notice the steady drip of beer from the abandoned bottle on his lap.

A sigh escaped her lips and her shoulders drooped slightly. "Kind of… I guess. Look, Gilbert, I thought I loved him; I wasn't going to let some drunken antics change my mind like that. But, now that you mention it, that's when I knew I wasn't going to marry him."

Without a word, Elizabeta leaned over to pluck the nearly empty bottle from Gilbert's lap. He gave a little start, but Elizabeta pressed on before he could say anything. "But don't look so smug about it, it wasn't just you who messed everything up." She smacked him on the shoulder, even though Gilbert didn't look smug in the slightest; he still had that lost look in his eyes. "In the end… he just wasn't right for me. I mean, he's a great guy and everything, but I couldn't really be myself around him, you know what I mean?"  _Not like I am around you._

Apparently recovered, Gilbert nodded. "He was kind of stuck up, wasn't he?"

Though she had to privately, agree, Elizabeta said, "That's enough, alright? I almost married that guy."

Both went quite once more as they sipped their beer. Elizabeta looked up at Gilbert out of the corner of her eye and wondered just what she saw in him. He wasn't the smartest and he certainly wasn't the most coordinated or mature. He was just… Gilbert. And Elizabeta could be herself around him. He didn't disapprove of her Batman boxers or other decidedly masculine habits.

The doorbell rang, startling the both of them. Gilbert jumped to his feet at once, nearly knocking over the table in the process. "Forgot I ordered pizza. I'm buying," he announced on his way to the door.

"What a gentleman." Though really, this suited the both of them better than a fancy restaurant. When Elizabeta thought back to that incident, she could have laughed. Why had she thought it had been a good idea in the first place?

She watched Gilbert pay the pizza guy and actually tip him, which mildly surprised her. Moments later, he returned to the couch with the pizza precariously balanced in one hand while he attempted to jam his change back into his pocket. "It's got everything on it 'cept for pineapples."

Though Elizabeta felt a little silly for grinning at the moment, she did it anyway. Of course Gilbert would remember that she hated pineapple on pizza. He couldn't remember where he left his keys or to put down the lid to the toilet seat, but he remembered the pineapples.

"Excellent, now what's on TV?"

They spent the next few minutes arguing over what to watch (with Gilbert insisting that he certainly did  _not_ want to watch any stupid reality show) before finally settling on some random cooking show that did not particularly offend either of them.

Neither of them had a great interest in cooking, which would have been a problem for anyone else. Instead, they made fun of everything from the host ("Dude, she's totally a man in drag, just LOOK at her!" Gilbert had said) to the way her kitchen looked("It's so fake, every time she passes by the window you can totally tell it's a green screen!").

A few beers and pizza slices later, Elizabeta and Gilbert had graduated to some horrible gossip show droning on and on about which celebrities had been caught doing something or other by the paparazzi. Somewhere in the middle of a story about a big paternity scandal, Elizabeta leaned over to lay her head on Gilbert's shoulder. Her arms draped lazily over him as she burrowed into the crook of his neck.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Gilbert's arm encircled her waist and he rested his head atop hers.

They hadn't drunk enough to become totally inebriated, but Elizabeta still felt some of the effects dulling her mind. "So why'd you do it, Gil?" The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could think better of it. Even if the question was vague and Gilbert was a bit tipsy, she knew he would understand.

And she also knew the answer. Though for years she had pretended to be oblivious to his advances, she knew he had a thing for her. Why she'd kept up that game with herself for so long, she had no idea. Maybe she wanted to protect their friendship, maybe she didn't want things to be weird.

And maybe she wanted Gilbert to grow a pair and tell her outright.

His breath quickened, blowing in short bursts over her hair. "You just want me to say it, don't you?"

Bingo. "Yeah, I do. Come on, stop being such a pussy."

"You cuss too much when you drink, you know that?" Gilbert snorted. "So not cute when girls do that."

Elizabeta rolled her eyes. "Oh shut up and just say it."

His Adam's apple bobbed against her cheek as he swallowed. "Whatever, Lizzy. I like you, okay? Since like the seventh grade. And that's why I freaked out at your rehearsal dinner."

Well, now that it was out in the open, Elizabeta didn't quite know how to feel. It was one thing to know about his little crush, but it was quite another to hear it in person. And what could she say to that?

Something stupid of course. "You've  _liked_  me since seventh grade? Are you still twelve or something?"

Gilbert twitched underneath her. "I don't know how else to say it without being gay."

A short blast of laughter spurted from Elizabeta's throat. It wasn't an altogether funny statement, but she felt particularly giddy at the moment, most likely the result of all the alcohol. "Okay so you like me, no-homo."

"If you're going to keep teasing me—"

Without warning, Elizabeta shifted a little and laid a kiss against Gilbert's neck. She could feel his skin heating up around her, and it made her grin. It didn't take much to fluster Gilbert.

"Okay, I won't tease you. Just shut up and watch the nice lady talk about celebrity divorces, okay?" Elizabeta settled back into his shoulder and snaked her arms more firmly around him, as if he were her favorite pillow, which he was at the moment. He wasn't as muscled as his brother, but he wasn't sharp and bony either. Whatever in-between consistency his body took was quite comfortable.

But Elizabeta did not really watch the TV. She stared at a spot just to the left, consumed in her own thoughts. On that stupid night of drunken streaking, she knew she had fallen in love with Gilbert. It had just taken a few beers a year later to coax it out of her. After that pathetic plea, she couldn't help it. She has also kissed him then, but she couldn't help that either and had left it out of the retelling. Kissing a naked Gilbert in the middle of her street with her hair a mess and clothing rumpled was not exactly her finest moment.

"So what's your answer?"

Now it was Gilbert's turn to be vague. Of course, Elizabeta knew what he was getting at, but she didn't let on. "What?"

He huffed, squeezing her gently in irritation. Any other day it wouldn't have bothered her, but on any other day she hadn't inhaled an unhealthy amount of pizza.

"Dammit, stop that," Elizabeta growled, smacking his hand away before pressing herself harder against him. "See, I bet you don't like that."

But it seemed Gilbert didn't have the heart to shake her off. Instead he simply stated, "You know you have to let go because I am close enough to vomit all over you."

The pressure let up at once. "Smartass."

"Language."

Shouts drifted towards them from the TV as the program played a clip of some celebrity beating a whole group of paparazzi with a bag of groceries. Both watched in fascination as the plastic bag swung in graceful arcs, sending expensive cameras crashing to the ground and clocking unlucky photographers in the face.

As the shouting died away, Elizabeta closed her eyes and squeezed Gilbert's shoulder. "I think I feel the same. But I'm not gonna say I  _like_  you."

Gilbert seemed to stiffen in her arms. Every muscle in his body seemed tense as he lifted his head from off hers. "What." There was no hint of a question in his voice. Just a flat, blank, "what."

Reluctantly, she picked up her head as well and looked up at him. "I love you or something. I don't know. Can you stop being so uncomfortable now? It's getting late and the booze is getting to me and my stomach hurts so I j—"

For once, Gilbert pleasantly surprised her. Of course Gilbert surprised her all the time by doing really stupid stuff, but never like this. This time he'd actually kissed her first.

He'd caught her mid sentence, so the kiss turned out to be a bit sloppy, but Elizabeta returned it all the same. Her arms wrapped around his neck and she shut her eyes tight.

Unfortunately, it seemed that Gilbert hadn't been expecting her to lean all over him, for he toppled backward and they hit the couch with a soft thud. Neither really minded, but Gilbert did let out a little squeak.

When they finally pulled away, Elizabeta laid her head under his chin, eyes still closed and sighed. She might have dozed off without a word just then if Gilbert hadn't shifted.

"Not to like, kill the mood or anything, but you are kind of crushing me."

With a sharp glare, she lifted her head to look him in the eyes. "You saying I'm fat?" she muttered, looking quite irritated. "Cause you're not exactly as fit as your brother either."

He turned a funny scarlet. "No! God, Lizzy, we talked about this like five seconds ago. You're on my stomach."

It took another moment for that to click, in which Gilbert squirmed again, starting to look rather uncomfortable. "Oh… right." With a little giggle, Elizabeta climbed off of him and got to her feet. "I should… go to bed then."

But one look at the clock on the wall and she panicked. Four in the morning. She had to leave for work at seven. "Shit! Gilbert! Why didn't you tell me it was so late?"

A look of confusion crossed his face as he pushed back the pale hair from his eyes. "You working tomorrow?"

"Didn't I just say that?" she snapped, practically tripping over herself to clear away the empty pizza box and beer bottles. "Oh God I'm going to show up hung over and they're going to fire me!"

Unlike Gilbert, Elizabeta had a real job translating Hungarian at a fairly prominent law firm.

But now they were going to fire her and she would be homeless.

As she gathered up the empty bottles, one slipped from her grasp and shattered on the floor. As she hurried to pick it up, the other two she'd been holding dropped and broke as well. Before she could even try to grasp at the glass shards, Gilbert had her from behind. He held her around the waist and forced her to take a step back. "Look, I'll clean it up when I'm sober, okay? Go to bed."

Elizabeta sagged against him, feeling utterly helpless. Though not normally one to dissolve into tears, not even while drunk, the combination of the alcohol, exhaustion, and the realization that she would be fired (not likely) brought tears to her eyes. She sniffed loudly, biting her lip to stop the flow of useless tears, but it was no use.

"…Lizzy, you crying?" Gilbert asked, his voice sounding alarmed in her ear.

Biting her lip, she flopped around in his arms to face him and buried her head in his chest. "N-no! B-but I'm going to go into work hung-over and they're going to f-fire me and then I'll lose my house." Her voice shook pathetically as she held back sobs. "M-maybe I could go live in Ludwig's basement too!"

Gilbert coughed uncomfortably and patted her on the back. "Come on, let's go to bed, you're being weird."

But she did not want to move from that spot. No matter how much Gilbert tried to pull away, her arms were like a vice around him. After several long, frustrating minutes, her legs were lifted out from underneath her. Elizabeta peaked up at Gilbert through her tangled hair, but he had his eyes set dead ahead, apparently focused on his destination and (hopefully) not tripping and falling. When they tottered into the bedroom, he deposited her on the bed, but her arms remained around him so that he had to stoop awkwardly.

"You're going to have to let go now." Though he tried to look annoyed, his voice was gentle and amused.

Looking slightly sheepish, Elizabeta released him. "Sorry…"

"Whatever. Listen, I'll drive you to work tomorrow, okay? Just try to sleep."

"Okay… can you get up that early?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I don't care. Just be ready right at seven, I don't want to have to drag you out of bed.

"I will be," Elizabeta replied with a huge yawn. "Now get out of here."

"Yeah, goodnight."

"Night."

As soon as Gilbert closed the door, Elizabeta retreated to the bathroom.


	7. Chapter 7

About twenty seconds after Gilbert closed his eyes, the alarm on his cell phone went off.

Of course it had been more like a few hours, but it sure didn't feel like it. The phone buzzed angrily his ear as he moaned and groped around for the annoying contraption. Finally, his fingers closed around it and he shoved it under his pillow, apparently forgetting he could silence it with the push of a button.

Bleary eyes slid open, instantly blinded by the light flooding in from the window. With a little whimper, he pulled the sheets over his head and just lay there for a moment, becoming increasingly aware of the headache building right between his eyes. After just lying there for a few moments, Gilbert peeled away the covers and sat up, knowing he'd end up falling back asleep if he stayed under a moment longer.

At that moment he discovered he was not alone.

Lying next to him, looking perfectly content, was Elizabeta. Her hair splayed out on the pillow and her mouth hung open, just slightly as she slept. Of course, Gilbert had no recollection of her ever climbing into bed with him and in fact distinctly remembered dropping her off in her own room before going to sleep…

Finding Elizabeta in his bed would have normally been a shock, but after last night, Gilbert thought anything might be possible. Somehow, he'd had his feelings reciprocated  _and_  kissed Elizabeta all in the same night. Of course those two events were bound to happen at the same time anyway,  _but still_. Some small, pessimistic part of him worried that Elizabeta might have just been drunk and it didn't really mean anything, but he did his best to put those thoughts out of his mind. They hadn't been quite that drunk.

Nevertheless, he did not want to push his luck and assume they were… a thing now or something. Still, the thought that it was possible made his headache seem less important.

"Lizzy? It's six, come on, get up." Hesitantly, Gilbert took hold of Elizabeta's shoulder and gave her a little shake. A low whine escaped her throat as her eyes fluttered open.

She blinked up at him several time before frowning. "This isn't my room." Knuckles rubbed across her eyes before she sat up, leaned into the headboard, and turned to him with a slightly accusatory glare.

Gilbert flinched and threw up his hands to protect himself. "Hey, you came in here on your own! I just woke up!"

"Oh." She seemed to consider this option for a moment as she rubbed her temples. "Right. I did come here."

Though Gilbert would have liked nothing better than to just sit in that bed all day, he knew he had to be the responsible one for once. "Okay now that that's all settled, want me to make coffee?"

For a moment, Elizabeta looked as though she were about to fall asleep sitting up, but she snapped to attention when the question was posed. "Yeah… thanks, Gil."

Gilbert furrowed he brows as he shrugged. He didn't know if he could, in good conscious, let Elizabeta go to work like that.

It took an extraordinary amount of effort to haul himself out of bed, but somehow he managed to stumble around to the other side and pull Elizabeta to her feet. She swayed dangerously for a moment before draping her arms around Gilbert's shoulders. "Drag me to the kitchen, I'm still asleep," she murmured into his neck.

Feeling more than a little flustered, Gilbert wrapped a hand around her waist for support and together they made their way to the kitchen. Once there Elizabeta released him and slumped into a chair before letting her forehead rest on the cool wood of the table.

"Want anything for breakfast?" Gilbert asked as he opened the cabinet. Luckily, he had come to know where Elizabeta kept her coffee stuff and had even learned how to use the machine. In his basement he'd lived off instant coffee.

Elizabeta lifted her head just long enough to make a face. "Please, I never want to eat again."

And that, Gilbert could agree with. After setting the water to boil, he came to take a seat on the table and looked over Elizabeta critically. "Are you sure you're gonna be alright at work today?"

"No. But I don't want to call in sick," she said stubbornly. "I've never called in sick before!" She shifted so that her cheek rested against the palm of her hand. "And I'm not even sick, I'm just tired."

Gilbert raised his eyebrows. "And not even a little hung-over?" He was certainly feeling it. A steady pulse of pain beat right between his eyebrows, getting progressively more painful. He felt just the slightest bit nauseous, but that would go away after he'd had coffee.

"No," Elizabeta insisted, closing her eyes for a long moment. "Could I throw up right now, maybe. But that's not because I'm hung over. I'm not a lightweight like you."

He snorted into his hand as the coffee began to drip into the pot. "I am so not a light-weight. Look at you, you can't even walk in a straight line!"

"I can! I told you, I was just tired!" Elizabeta growled, apparently now taking offense to the suggestion that she couldn't hold her liquor. "Is the coffee done yet?"

With a little yawn, Gilbert glanced over his shoulder. "Nope, almost." As they both lapsed into silence, Gilbert began to squirm. Though it was probably not the best time to bring up the previous night, it had been eating away at him ever since he woke up. "So um… last night."

Once again Gilbert proved himself the most eloquent person in the room.

A little grin stole over Elizabeta's face, washing away the irritated expression. "What about it?"

Of course she would tease him. Yeah yeah, he was too damn scared to talk about his feelings or whatever, that he knew. Even now that he knew how Elizabeta felt, he still couldn't bring himself to form a proper sentence. But, at the risk of being further berated, he said, "You know, what happened between us." It was about as clear as he could make it without self-destructing.

Elizabeta bit her lip, as though she were trying very hard to remember. But by the mischevious glint in her eyes, Gilbert knew she was playing with him. "What happened between us… Hmm. Well we had some kind of pizza eating contest that will probably wreak havoc on my figure." She tapped her fingers together thoughtfully. "And then we drank… also not…" And suddenly her expression turned dark, surprising Gilbert.

"You're going to make me fat and I will hate you forever." Her eyes had narrowed severely and her jaw set in a hard line.

"What? I didn't force that pizza down your throat! You were shoveling it down! Same goes for the beer."

Elizabeta folded her arms over her chest and stuck her tongue out at Gilbert. "Shut up. Anyway, where was I?" She paused for a moment looking a bit less upset. "Oh right, we watched some dumb TV shows and then I think you tried to put the moves on me but I told you to suck it."

"Dude, totally not what happened," Gilbert muttered, getting up to retrieve the coffee and two mugs. When he sat back down, he poured out a bit into each cup before handing one to Elizabeta.

This seemed to make Elizabeta laugh. "Dude? Wow, you sure know how to treat a lady, especially one that you want to bone."

Hot coffee spurted from his lips like a fountain, spraying the kitchen floor with a fine coating of the steaming liquid. Luckily, he'd managed to turn his head in time and hadn't ended up spraying it all over Elizabeta. "Excuse me?"

But Elizabeta looked similarly shocked by her own statement. A hand moved to cover her mouth as she just stared at him with a slightly horrified expression. After a moment her hand dropped away and she shook her head. "You are the worst influence on me, you know that?" She smoothed back her rumpled hair and sighed. "Or I guess not. I guess this is how I always am, right?"

Gilbert shrugged. Elizabeta was… complicated. One minute she could be a dude, drinking and swearing like the best of them, but other times she could be a chick, and a really cute one at that. He remembered one particular incident where he'd broken his leg from doing something dumb and she'd held his hand all the way to the hospital. She hadn't laughed or teased him, just sat there with concern written all over her face as he clutched her hand like a lifeline.

And last night, when she'd been hanging all over him, she'd been pretty cute too.

"Not all the time," Gilbert said diplomatically. "And I bet you feel like shit right now, so you're excused."

This brought a smile to Elizabeta's features as she raised the coffee mug to her lips. After taking just a sip, she winced at the bitterness. "No sugar?"

And suddenly it was Gilbert's turn to tease her. "Sugar? Wuss." He leaned back dangerously in the wobbly old chair and managed to snatch the sugar bowl off the counter without falling off.

"Because drinking black coffee makes you such a man," Elizabeta retorted as she spooned a fairly generous amount of sugar into her coffee.

They continued to ramble about this and that before Elizabeta left the table to shower. Somehow, the conversation had derailed and they had never managed to get back on the subject of the previous night. As Gilbert moped around the living room, cleaning up empty beer bottles and vacuuming the shards from the carpet, he supposed he should be more forward. After all, he  _had_  kissed her.

And, for once, he had taken the initiative.

With that thought in his mind, he didn't feel like so much of a loser after all. He'd kissed the girl of his dreams and she hadn't smacked him or threatened bodily harm. If he had done that, he could initiate a conversation about their… relationship status.

Or maybe he couldn't.

Deciding he didn't need to shower just to drive Elizabeta to work, Gilbert threw on his clothes after the living room had been cleaned and collapsed into the couch. His eyes slid shut, just for a moment, and the next thing he knew, Elizabeta was shaking him awake.

"Come on sleeping beauty, it's time to wake up." Her small, delicate fingers tugged at his shirt collar until he opened his eyes and swatted her away.

With a stifled yawn, Gilbert got to his feet and stretched. "Alright, alright, give me your keys." He held out his palm expectantly and Elizabeta pressed the keys into it, leaving her hand over his longer than strictly necessary.

Or it could have been Gilbert's imagination. Either way, it gave him goosebumps.

If there was one thing Gilbert prided himself on, it was his driving skills. He actually drove fairly well, better than Elizabeta at least.

He never got distracted or let weird giggle fits affect his performance, unlike some people. In addition, he could hold up a conversation,  _and_  watch the road, but it didn't seem like Elizabeta wanted to talk. The moment they got in the car, she leaned back the seat a little and promptly fell asleep.

Secretly, Gilbert was relieved. Though he tried to tell himself he was relieved that Elizabeta could rest and now show up to work dead tired, he knew the real reason. Now he could delay his awkward conversation even further.

Though technically unemployed, Gilbert did sort of have a job, but it was really embarrassing and he never told anyone about it, not even Elizabeta. Even Tony and Francis didn't know. Gilbert just knew that if anyone ever found out, he would never live it down.

Gilbert was being paid to blog.

Actually, Gilbert really liked it, no matter what lengths he had to do to hide it from everyone. It wasn't some stupid gimmicky blog in which he made all the recipes from some cook book or documented his weight loss. Nope, just a blog about his life that actually didn't do all that poorly online. He never posted any names or pictures, so he could safely say that no one had found him out yet.

Since he'd been away from his computer, all the recent updates had been on his phone. It was not an ideal way to work, since he had to wait until Elizabeta went to bed or was at work and then he had to type on his phone's tiny keyboard and squint into the screen to make sure he hadn't made any typos.

A little noise at his side brought him out of thoughts of his blog. Elizabeta groaned and stirred a little, looking over at Gilbert with bleary eyes. "How long have I been out?"

He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. "I dunno, maybe like ten minutes."

Elizabeta grimaced, pulling down the mirror on the ceiling to check her hair. "Felt more like two." Her still damp hair clung to her cheeks as she tried to arrange it into something presentable. "Thanks again, Gilbert. I probably would've crashed if I tried to drive."

He shrugged. "I know. It was either drive you or lock you in the house. Didn't think I could persuade you to stay home."

"I told you, I've never missed a day," Elizabeta insisted, drawing her arms around her chest and digging her fingers into her shoulders. A shuddering sigh floated from her lips, prompting Gilbert to glance over at her.

She waved him away, biting her lip and looking slightly green. "I'm fine, keep your eyes on the road."

But Gilbert couldn't help but worry. "Lizzy, perfect attendance doesn't get you an award anymore. Are you sure you don't want to go back?"

From first grade until she graduated high school, Elizabeta had never missed a day of school. Gilbert had no idea  _how_  she did it, but he did know why. To her, it was another contest, something she could beat others at. But that was one competition that Gilbert had no desire to compete in. If he got sick, he didn't want to go to school and give his illness to everyone else and feel like dying while he did so.

Elizabeta, on the other hand, was perfectly content to show up dressed like an Eskimo and spend the whole school day zoning out.

"It's the principle of the thing," Elizabeta snapped, her fingers digging into the fabric of her sleeves. "Besides—" She stopped short and took a very deep breath, hands flying to her mouth.

"Lizzy?"

"Pull over."

Gilbert didn't have to be told twice. He cut through two lanes, getting honked at left and right, until he could pull onto the shoulder. Elizabeta fumbled with the handle and practically threw herself out of the car.

Hoping he would not get hit by oncoming traffic, because that was the last thing he needed, Gilbert slid out of the car and went around the side to find Elizabeta on her knees in the patchy grass, retching and shuddering. He tentatively squatted down by her side and gathered her hair into his hands to pull it away from her face.

Finally, she stopped shaking and took a deep breath before collapsing against Gilbert's chest. He let her hair fall around her and gently slid his arms around her. "You okay?"

She nodded weakly under his chin. "Can we go home?" Her voice sounded small and distant.

A little wave of relief crashed over Gilbert. He would have had to start a fight if Elizabeta still insisted on going to work after that. "Yeah, come on." He stood slowly, pulling Elizabeta up with him.

"You know, Gil… you're alright," she muttered, dragging a sleeve across her lips as they hobbled towards the car.

Gilbert slipped into the driver's seat once more, luckily avoiding being flattened by a car. "Just alright?"

"Yeah, don't get too cocky about it."

For a long moment, Gilbert just sat there, agonizing about attempting another conversation about the night before. Like, really agonizing, his chest hurt and blood pounded in his ears. He thought he must have been the most pathetic man in existence. Well, at that moment he decided to stop being such a pussy about everything. Maybe not  _everything_  but…

"So, last night. You told me you loved me and then we kissed." Even though he had been direct about it, it had come out all wrong, too straightforward and mechanical.

Elizabeta seemed to think so too for she paused half-way through putting on her seatbelt. "Yeah, so?"

Gilbert swallowed, trying to keep his mind on the road as he merged back into traffic. "So, what does that make us? I mean like, we dating or something?"

"I dunno, I guess," Elizabeta replied, gazing fixedly at the glove compartment.

When Gilbert managed to steal a glance at her, he noticed her cheeks slightly pink. Well, that was new. Elizabeta rarely got embarrassed over anything, let along blushed. A certain warmth crept up to Gilbert's cheeks in response.

"Oh. Well… cool."

They fell silent for a moment, both staring out the windshield like it was the most interesting thing on the planet. Finally, Elizabeta said, "Is this gonna be weird?"

Gilbert tore his eyes away from the road for a moment to look at her, just look at her. Though her eyes flickered to his for just a second, he could tell she was scared. Hell, he was scared too. Though he had dreamed about this for years, he knew the consequences if things went wrong: they would probably never be friends again. He had nearly lost her once, he wasn't about to do it again.

But they had survived a big disaster before, who's to say a failed relationship would tear them apart?

"It's only weird if you make it weird, Lizzy."

She blinked, looking a little affronted. "Me make it weird? What about you? You're going straight home to call Francis and Antonio, aren't you?" A wicked grin crossed her lips. "I bet you'll write about it in your diary too."

Gilbert almost skidded as they turned into Elizabeta's neighborhood. While it was true that he had planned on calling his friends and writing about it in his diary, he couldn't let her know that. "Of course not! You think I'm a girl or something?"

"It's not girly," Elizabeta said honestly, reaching over to put a hand on Gilbert's shoulder. "It's kind of cute."

And Gilbert knew he had never been so red in his entire life.

In all the years he'd known Elizabeta, she had never said anything like that to him. Whenever she paid him a compliment, it was always something like "well I guess you're not as dumb as you look" or "maybe you're not so useless after all." Never something outright.

"Oh… well um I guess I will do all that then."

She laughed, squeezing his shoulder before pulling back and tucking her arms around herself once more. "Just help me into bed first, please."

"Can do."

Despite her protests, Gilbert carried Elizabeta bridal style into the house and deposited her unceremoniously on top of the sheets. She shoved him out of the room so should could change, but Gilbert promised to be back after he got off the phone.

Alone in his room, Gilbert pulled out his cell phone.

Francis picked up on the third ring. "Gilbert?" He sounded a bit sleepy, reminding Gilbert that the day had only just begun.

"Hi, Francis, did I wake you?"

"Oui." His tone was flat now and somewhat irritated.

Gilbert swallowed, assuming the worst. "Arthur didn't find you, did he?"

A very irritated noise floated from the receiver. "Do you really want to know what happened last night?"

The truthful answer was "no" but Gilbert said "Yes" anyway.

Taking a deep breath, Francis launched head on into his story, "So I emerged from the woman's restroom to find that nerd practically salivating. I told him I needed to leave, but he kept insisting that he wanted to buy me a drink. So as I'm leaving he FOLLOWS me out, making a scene in the restaurant.

And guess who comes over to see what's wrong?"

"…Arthur."

"Yes, Arthur! And—"

"Oi, could you keep it down, frog?"

A frown tugged at Gilbert's lips as he narrowed his eyes. "He's there now isn't he?"

When Francis replied his tone had gone soft and sheepish. "Okay, so maybe it did all work out in the end."

A very bad mental image crept into Gilbert's mind and he could not shake it for the life of him."Ew. Okay, well everything went well with Lizzy too, so I suppose we're even. Tony's not there too… right?"

Francis scoffed into the phone. "Non, Arthur does not allow me two men." Gilbert shuddered. "I will tell him things went smoothly though. You get back to Elizabeta, she must be waiting, no?"

"Yeah… thanks again Francis."

"Mmmn. You owe me."

And Gilbert hung up before Francis had a chance to start describing all the sexual favors he wanted done. For a moment, he looked down at his cell phone and contemplated updating his blog, but he thought better of it. It could wait, for the moment. Instead, he kicked off shoes and changed into something more suitable for hanging around the house in.

When he arrived in Elizabeta's bedroom he found her under the covers, eyes half-closed. She perked up a little when he entered and sat up. "So what did they say?"

Rolling his eyes, Gilbert took a seat on the end of the bed. "You know, the usual. Francis apparently scored with the waiter or something."

Elizabeta snorted into her hand. "Well, good for him." She shifted, drawing the blankets up to her neck. "I don't know about you, but I think I'll be sleeping for a long time."

"Yeah, I'm freaking tired." But he didn't stand up just yet. "You alright though?"

Stifling a yawn, she nodded. "Yeah. I could have gone to work," she insisted. "I just… don't feel like it."

"Yeah right." Now that they were back home, Gilbert had no idea how he had driven at all. His legs had turned to lead and his brain pounded against his skull like it had suddenly shrunk two sizes.

As much as he didn't feel like standing, Gilbert knew he had to leave and let Elizabeta rest. He hauled himself off the bed, only to have Elizabeta grab his arm. "Hey, where are you going, Gil?"

He frowned at her, a little furrow forming in between his brows. "To my room?"

The tug on his arm grew more insistent. "Oh, just stay here, I don't mind." She moved over a little bit and lifted back the sheets.

Mouth going a little dry, Gilbert nodded and slid into bed next to her. Without another word, Elizabeta curled up real close and snaked her whole body around him. "Don't even say anything, you're comfortable, okay?"

Gilbert just nodded, not moving another muscle as Elizabeta closed her eyes. For a few moments he just lay there, listening as Elizabeta's breaths became slower and deeper. Finally, his own eyes fluttered closed and he was out.


	8. Chapter 8

Elizabeta woke up to the sound of her very annoying ringtone blaring in her ear. She moaned and clutched Gilbert tighter, unwilling to even move. He was warm and comfortable and releasing him would bring nothing but bright lights and sleepiness. Very reluctantly, she pulled back and groped for her phone.

"Hello?" her voice sounded a bit hoarse and dry, but not as terrible as it could have sounded. Her eyes opened, just a crack, to see the mid-day sun filtering in through the blinds.

"Ah, Elizabeta, the renovations are complete. I tried calling my brother, but it seems his phone is off." There was an awkward pause. "He is still with you, correct?"

Through the slits in her eyelids, she glanced at Gilbert's sleeping form beside her. "Mmhmm. I'll drop him off later." She was still half-asleep, and she was thankful that anything she said made sense.

"Thank you. I appreciate it."

"Yep, anytime."

They mumbled their goodbyes and Elizabeta snapped her phone before letting it flop back onto her pillow. As her eyes began to slide shut once more, she realized just what this meant. The basement was done, Gilbert would have to leave. Once upon a time she had looked forward to this day, but now she really didn't want him to go…

But how awkward would that be to ask Gilbert to live with her.

Maybe they could be roommates, she reasoned. They could split the rent and Gilbert could sleep in the spare room. She almost snorted at the thought. After the previous night there was no way they could be "just roommates" or "just friends."

And as if he knew she was thinking about him, Gilbert stirred next to her. He rolled over away from her and yawned loudly. For a moment everything went quiet, but when Gilbert turned to face her, he scrambled out of bed as though he'd been set on fire.

In the same instance, Elizabeta yelped and scrambled to the far end of the bed, staring up at Gilbert with wide, startled eyes. "What?" she hissed, clutching at the sheets and glancing around the room as though she expected an intruder to burst in at any time.

He just pointed at her, mouth open and face totally red. "I-I… y-y-you!" He turned around very quickly and faced at the wall with his hands crossed tightly over his chest. "You're half-naked."

Elizabeta blinked and glanced down at herself. Bra, Batman boxers. She could just vaguely remember pulling her shirt off at some point because Gilbert was a little too warm, but she had been half-asleep at the time. Without batting an eyelid, she leaned over, snatched up the discarded shirt, and pulled it back on.

"You can turn around now, you prude."

When Gilbert finally did turn around, his face was flushed all the way down his neck. He shifted uncomfortably, still looking a little wary. "And we shouldn't make a habit out of…i _sleeping together./i_ "

Elizabeta pursed her lips and ran a hand through her hair. For the life of her, she could not remember anything weird happening. Finally, she decided Gilbert really had meant sleeping together, in the purest of forms.

She quirked an eyebrow and shook her head. "Wow, really, Gilbert?"

"Yes really!" he growled, taking a step back. "I didn't want to say anything cause you weren't feeling good and stuff, but…." He trailed off, looking slightly distraught. "We're not even married…"

And now Elizabeta laughed. She threw her head back and positively howled as she rolled over to face the opposite wall. Of course that was something only Gilbert could come up with. Wiping the tears from her eyes, she sat up and looked at Gilbert square in the eyes. He seemed to wilt in her gaze.

"You're weird, you know that?"

He narrowed his eyes and back up against the wall. "Just because I have standards..."

Elizabeta slid from the bed and crossed the room in one fluid motion. Before Gilbert could even breathe, she had pressed herself into his arms. Something about him was just so endearing. "Okay, Mr. Standards, Ludwig says your basement is done."

He pulled back to look at Elizabeta in the eye and something in his expression made her look away. She knew he didn't want to leave as much as she wanted him to stay.

But if Gilbert balked at the thought of sleeping in the same bed as a woman, then how would he feel about living with one?

"Oh… Suppose I should get ready to go then?" Though she could still feel his gaze on her, she didn't meet his eyes just yet. Instead she toyed with his hair idly, no doubt flustering him.

And, finally, her eyes flickered up to his and a smile spread across her lips. "I dunno… Maybe you could stay for a while. I mean, since we're friends again or something. I could always use someone to help pay the rent." Her smile turned mischievous and her fingers tangled in the ends of his hair. "Well, if you ever get any money to actually i _pay/i_ rent."

Surprisingly, Gilbert grinned at this. She had expected him to at least look a little offended. "Who says I don't have any money? C'mon, Lizzy, give me a little credit! I'm not a total loser." He pulled back one of his arms from her waist and fished his cell phone out of his pocket.

Of course Elizabeta had no idea what he was going on about and was not impressed in the slightest by his cell phone. "Okay? Wait, wait, let me guess!" She released Gilbert's neck and took a step back, looking him up and down critically. He shifted a bit nervously under her gaze, but his grin didn't waver as he held up that phone. "Okay, phone, phone, what could you be doing… Um, you're a telemarketer?"

Gilbert shook his head, looking amused. "Hell no. Come on, let me tell you, you're never gonna get it."

But Elizabeta shook her head vigorously in return. "No, no, I want to guess! Hmm…" She stroked her chin thoughtfully and frowned in concentration. "You're a drug dealer!"

At that, Gilbert snorted. "Are you even trying?"

"Shut up!" Elizabeta barked, pacing back and forth now. Now it was a game and Elizabeta hated to lose. Biting her lip, she racked her sleepy brain for even the slightest hint, but came up short. What Gilbert could possibly be doing with his phone, she had no idea.

Looking slightly exasperated now, Gilbert shoved the phone back into his pocket. "Well, if it helps, I normally do it on my computer."

Elizabeta looked positively scandalized. "No hints! That's cheating! God, Gil, I wanted to win fair and square." She rolled her eyes and took a step forward to smack him on the shoulder. "Now it's too easy. You make internet porn." Of course she knew this would make him reveal his job, unprompted, so, technically, she had not lost this round. Losing would have meant outright asking. This was not outright asking.

This had the desired effect on Gilbert, for he began to sputter and wave his arms around furiously. "No! No! It's a blog! I run a blog!"

Feigning outrage, Elizabeta shouted, "Hey, I told you I wanted to guess!" But, all the same, a grin marred her act. Of course Gilbert ran a blog, that was just like him. Before he could start shouting back at her, she took a few steps back and flopped onto the bed. "Whatever. I just want to know who in their right mind reads your blog?"

A little frown tugged at his lips. "That's it? You're not going to make fun of me for that?"

Elizabeta shrugged. "Didn't I already tell you I thought your little diary was cute? Whatever, you don't have to tell me who reads that junk. Anyway, you still haven't told me whether you want to stay or not." Though her tone was light and casual, Elizabeta couldn't really help but feel nervous about his answer. Part of her knew that he would jump at the chance to stay, but another part worried that he might say no for whatever weird reasons he had.

"Well…," Gilbert began, swallowing nervously as he leaned against the wall, "I don't know…" His idly hands toyed with the hem of his shirt as Elizabeta braced herself for whatever bizarre thing might come out of his mouth next. Though it was a bit disappointing, she could understand. After all, they had just become friends again and then added some other layer of their relationship that neither had really labeled yet.

But she really wasn't prepared for what came next.

"Got ya! Come on, Lizzy, stop making that face! Did you _really_ think I would go back to living in a basement after you of all people asked me to stay?" He rolled his eyes and shook his head. "Seriously, I mean I've been waiting for this since like, middle school. Did you really think I was going to say no?"

Though Elizabeta could have pretended to get upset and made a big deal out of it, she honestly didn't feel like it. So she let Gilbert off the hook this time and instead crossed the room to smack him gently on the shoulder. "Jerk," she muttered as she slid her arms around him once more.

It probably wouldn't be easy (nothing with Gilbert was ever easy) but Elizabeta couldn't deny that being "roommates" would probably be a good decision in the end. Idly, she thought about calling Ludwig back to inform him that she wouldn't be dropping Gilbert off later. But as the silver haired man leaned down to kiss her, Elizabeta thought it could wait.

**Author's Note:**

> I honestly don't remember what happens in this fic but uh HOPE YOU LIKE IT?


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